Roads not Taken

 

 

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

 

Then took the other, as just as fair, ...

 

 These beginning lines from Robert Frost's famous poem "The Road not Taken" have appeared in many of my thoughts, either written, spoken, or just plain musing. The assumed theme in my case, of course, would be the split career path taken at mid-life when I headed down the highways and interstates of Canada and the U.S.  A preacher risked his training and half-finished career path for the (?) freedom of a long haul trucker - at least that was the theme in 'casual conversation' circles. Retirement is affording considerable opportunity to reflect on things, in fact the super-reflections as afforded by Coronavirus are providing some extra divergences for my thinker.  I am no longer convinced it was only two roads.   I remember one time already past the magic 65th birthday, still trucking smartly and perhaps at apex of what many trucker buddies look for.  I owned a nice looking truck and pulled a classy reefer trailer bringing salads, tomatoes and bananas from warmer climes.  One day I made a phone call. It was a number once jotted down of another trucking company similar to the one I was with - just to say hello!  Lo and behold, the person answering the phone was the owner - and ready to meet me for coffee, like immediately! Short version of that conversation: he was impressed with looks of my unit, probably the way I presented myself, and ready to add me to his small fleet, even to arrange financing so I could add a trailer to my holdings.  Bottom line, I suppose, now I could make a bit more money pulling for him.                                                                                                           

                                          

                         Upon thinking a bit about this, I decided it would not be a good venture, especially at sunset of my trucking years - best stay put for a bit longer.  Now my thinker is going on (again).  I am reminded of another time earlier in the trucking years, I was enticed to join a heavy haul fleet pulling over-dimension flat deck loads for big money.  I decided also to stay put - easier to pull out of vans than flat decks if the call to preaching became undeniable. 😏

    And now another thought; this one going back to the noble profession.  After a decade of very enjoyable pastoral ministry and after some clinical education, I had opportunity to pursue some further training in same hospital - financially not quite practical but would have been good for the CV.  I turned it down and returned to pastoral ministry.  Good decision?  The jury is still out on that.  Back in the world of congregational ministry I saw those very needs and opportunities for on-the-job clinical training, but it's a concept that does not take easily. People in churches are not interested in on-the-job training. We prefer hiring finished products and then wonder why they don't have any training! 😒 Yup, it's true.

 

    Further thoughts, and these stretch right on into retirement. Pastoral ministry is a profession you can't retire out of.  You die out of it.  So it follows that occasions of decision are not only the opportunities. Also there are the rebuffs, and rebuffs are occasions too! A couple examples. Our pastor needed some personal time to deal with a family crisis. I offered to do some preaching to help out. It was turned down flat. No explanation, except I know it was unprocessed rumor-generated folklore, "Don't give a previous pastor too much air time."  Another example, this from the trucking world and several years after the ego-enhancing owner operator offer described above. My truck is sold by now, gone, gone.  I again happen to speak with said owner.  He is now uninterested in me, "Send in resume if you'd like." 😐 Another stanza of Frost's poem comes to mind. 

     

    And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

    

    Way leads on to way. One decision presents a further, and which was a right one, or a wrong one? Indeed Coronavirus is providing the extra lengths of time to give these thoughts a good working over.  I am coming to realize, however, this is a standard feature of many of us getting just a bit older. Richard Rohr's Falling Upward (Wiley, 2011) tells us this latter stage of life is the time to reflect on the things not accomplished!  Also another book I read about a decade ago,  Getting Home before Dark, by Peter J. Dyck (Herald Press, 2001). He writes in the bold caring style of a life-time warrior at the front lines of Christian service, reminding us all via his own experiences that it's good to make peace with the decisions you've made in your life, speak forthrightly and clearly especially with the loved ones, so that you can put your "what ifs" to rest, and then allow yourself to be. 

 

    Furthermore, some great eternal wisdom in the Bible, ¹⁸ Very truly I tell you, when you were younger you dressed yourself and went where you wanted; but when you are old you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will dress you and lead you where you do not want to go.” (John 21:18). I think of my mom's words toward the end of her days, "We take it as it comes." Rest in peace mama dear.

At the Heart

I participate regularly (well almost regularly) in Daily Prayer sponsored by the provincial conference of our church and hosted by two pastors (see Back to the Future, July 8) .  It has become, I believe, a life-giving habit for those of us who don't mind 'the liturgical sound' including repetitive prayer patterns with opportunity to pray daily for precisely what is the daily joy, need, intercession, and even an 'extra concern' of each participant.  It is, I believe, also life-saving. Yes, alongside this regularly recurring appearance before God including a prerecorded daily hymn, I think I see some changes.  Changes within me, and seemingly also some changes around me. For example, the daily intercession includes a prayer for my neighbors, and now there are some changes up and down our street.  Greetings, waves, overtures of help are becoming more commonplace, including the related chats - social distancing of course. 💭 Similarly the church community, some programming challenges are meeting up with new solutions appearing not necessarily by our design but more likely by Holy Spirit infused corona circumstance. New thoughtfulness in church and community, new possibilities looking us in the face.

This has become especially convincing to me during these last several weeks of Advent. The interface of Old Testament yearnings and New Testament possibilities is right before our eyes as we read again some of those scriptures. An old woman beyond child bearing age, has a son.  Elizabeth and her humble old priest-husband Zechariah are told the unexpected news by an angel named Gabriel, and they shall name him John (Luke 1:13).  And a young Jewish maiden betrothed to a young man Joseph discovers she is pregnant.  Oops, but not to worry, says that same angel to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary; you have found favor with God. ³¹ You will conceive and give birth to a son, and you are to call him Jesus. ³² He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High.

The convincing part for me this year is this very old part, the part which has been either sung in Christmas carols, recited in pageants, programs and displays forever, repeated (yes repeated) even by those who hardly ever go to church!  These old scriptures are now again fresh in my mind and they will survive the profits not made this year by the shopping centers and pubs and restaurants this yuletide corona season.  I refer to prophets' words like Isaiah, 

A shoot will come up from the stump of Jesse;
    from his roots a Branch will bear fruit.
² The Spirit of the Lord will rest on him— (11:1,2);    

 Therefore the Lord himself will give you^[a] a sign: The virgin^[b] will conceive and give birth to a son, and^[c] will call him Immanuel.(7:14);     

and the famous one in The Hallelujah Chorus,  For to us a child is born, to us a son is given,  and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.(9:6).

This yearning, anticipation among the Hebrews, first the wilderness wanderers, then the monarchy, then split kingdoms (yes Israel and Judah), then exile in Babylon and back to Jerusalem and then the long wait for that One promised. The angelic message about unlikely miraculous births (Luke 1) gives rise to yet further testing of faith - Zechariah is terrified (:12), and Mary perplexed, "How can this be, since I am a virgin?" (:34).  Of late they have lived under Roman dominance, and fragmented understandings of their own faith (pharisees, scribes, saducees, zealots). For Mary to say, "Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word" is an impressive statement not only of submission but possibly relief and understanding.  And by the way, this young lady is also the mothering one - much pondering and agonizing during the upcoming lifetime of this baby she bore.

At the heart of all this seeking of solutions, a promised messiah, and then a virgin birth?  This year I cannot but lay claim to an unequivocal yes. Yes virgin birth!  The inclination of us neurotypicals is of course, How can this be? Like the people of Israel (and of today's society) the yen is for practical social and political solutions.   Even on an occasion of angelic annunciation the impulse would be to have it make sense. I smile even as I reflect on some of my own theological education.  Sexless births (mystery births) are not exactly within Creator's created order, yes? no?  Different interpretations (analyses?) often come with accompanying schools of religion, each with their brand of colleges, seminaries, and mode operandi.  You know, the liberalists, the literalists, the evangelicals, the neo-evangelicals, the zealous, the slackers, etc.  

Hail Mary!  Christmas 2020 is an excellent occasion to rethink some theology.  This year, when the kids are unable to sit on Santa's lap, it is a good time to read daily scriptures, to marvel at Mary and Joseph, and to come along with shepherds, sheep and cattle, and even some strangers from the East seeing a star announcing a baby born to a young lady as promised by an angel. Come and worship!  

Recently I learned something at Petroglyphs Provincila Park, an Indigenous teaching site near Woodbridge, Ontario.  It is a preserved display of ancient carvings depicting humans inhabited by spirit -  an Indigenous witness affirming belief in the divine-human. That may be news to many indigenous urban non-religious persons. That is probably news also to most of my settler colonialist Christian friends, although the virgin birth contingent among us may have less problem with that. Similarly, Muslims believe in virgin birth (Surah 19:20).  Christians who believe in virgin birth are in good company.  

God come among us.  That Nativity right in between the Testaments is indeed at the heart of the biblical message.  It cannot adequately be contained by liberal or conservative Christians.  Neither do we have the last word yet on all that God is about in this world, or this universe.  “I am the Alpha and the Omega,” says the Lord God, “who is, and who was, and who is to come, the Almighty.” (Revelation1:8)

The virgin Mary had a baby boy. And they called him Jesus.

Profane and the Sacred

Something about one of my recent posts (Dec 7) seems not quite done yet! It's the one about that thoughtful conversation with fellow truckers in a repair shop and then the surprise death of one of them, and how it affected all of us.  It was a sacred event right in a workaday sometimes profane environment. The responses to that post, both from the truckers and from my present day fellow retirees affirmed the theme of good faith (or religious) experiences in surprising places, even affirming my sub theme that many times the wilderness - the tough environment - provides even better spiritual encounters than the churchy environment.

I like what I wrote, but perhaps it was only half the story.  So ... these next paragraphs are but some thinking, musing.  Thank you for reading along with me during these Corona days. 😊  Indeed there is more to it than that.  That earlier post certainly was not intended as a decertification of the many professionals including myself who have become theologically educated, many now serving in colleges, seminaries, and churches with much thoughtfulness and commitment. I have been reading their stuff all the time even during my two million miles of long haul trucking mental health break from the rigors of that profession.  I envy and respect those scholars and clergy who write articles and books.  My main point; God's world is beyond the labels and the professions we line ourselves up with..   

For starters I shall simply post title the other way.  Rather than "Sacred and the Profane" as in previous, why not "Profane and the Sacred" this time?  And, yes I cannot but begin with another trucker sample. It was a short-term job, this one, just prior to beginning a semester of clinical study after I had served 10 enjoyable years as pastor of a church in Edmonton.  I was driving double with a partner, regular route Edmonton to Yellowknife and back. We got along good, the two of us, me already the ordained preacher and he a fine christian friend. We considered ourselves fortunate, a fine team.  "You're so lucky." he says one day.  "Sure," says I, "But why you say that?"  "Because," says he, "You can talk with people about life and faith and stuff so easy without it getting awkward.  It's because you're a preacher, and they know it. Me, I'm just a Christian, and they treat me like a religious freak or something."  Well, I thanked him for his humble eye-opening perspective. Good information indeed from my trucker buddy.

Self awareness is important.  Me being a preacher in a truckers world has given ample illustration. The occasions simply present themselves when the 'religious' is asked for, either out of confusion or pain or occasionally obligation.  To speak with someone who is comfortable on subject is a good thing.  I am one of those, always appreciate full on straight-shooting questions about absolutely anything.   It is so much preferable to all kinds of tire-kicking insinuations, cat and mouse games, etc.  This was fascinatingly confirmed not long after the above conversation. That following year of training was a Residency in Pastoral Care and Counseling in a large hospital.  In one of the teaching sessions our supervisor impressed on us that professional identity is indeed important. "Your professional identity needs to be clear, so you can be accessed by others." Just being a nice person is not enough. "You've got to be comfortable with that," said Dr Bill Schmidt, "And as a clergy you are a representative of God".  

Indeed. Indeed. Not THE representative, but in many situations a representative!  And sometimes your professional identity may get used for whatever purposes at hand - well beyond your choosing.  "That is beyond your control.  But as a clergy you need to be able to walk the hallways and the hospital units confident enough with yourself to do the chaplain job."  Wise words sir.

Good wisdom this was for my further years of pastoring, and ironically also into yet another considerably longer stint of trucking which followed in a later chapter of my life. Without one iota of effort I was dubbed "Preacher Man" in the CB lingo of the interstates, the hiways and biways of Canada and the U.S.  This identity came up in weird and sometime hilarious occasions.  I recall one when my truck broke down (No double driving these latter years. Single operator).  This was one last run just before Christmas. Heading southbound towards Texas, my truck quit just before Casper, WY. Electronic sensors do that nowadays.  Big problem, needed brand new radiator, and it was Friday late afternoon just before the weekend. Frantic communiques, telephone calls; emergency override buttons, soon my dispatcher with relief says, "Gary (our boss) is on the phone now talking to somebody. He'll figure something out." Short version of this story.  Instructions suddenly. Drop trailer at a certain nearby dealership. Parts will be delivered to a small repair shop who will work overtime after hours to repair truck. When I arrived at designated small shop they were waiting for me, a pickup truck was idling ready for me to drive to nearby truckstop so I could have dinner, and they would call me when truck was repaired!! Courtesy, respect, humor. Three hours later my cell phone rang. Truck ready to go! I could hardly believe my ears. The ace up the boss's sleeve? As it was told to me, he had told them this trucker is a preacher, and he's gotta get home for Christmas, he's got responsibilities, and "I don't care what it costs  me. Just fix the damn thing!" 😏 Well, dear old Gary had not only stretched the truth a bit, but also used an ace that works in the workaday (Profane?) world. You gotta respect the religious guy! This uneducated wealthy businessman utilized Preacher Man for his and everybody else's benefit. 

There are times and there are occasions when things are in fact surprisingly beyond our control, and as just illustrated, sometimes others may offer their interpretation of you or even who you are.  Obviously this is also an argument for living one's life honorably, because you never know who -?-  may be watching.  Do not turn yourself inside out explaining or denying something that once was you or that you wish for, but this is us now. My truckers world knew that I was a preacher, but also that I struggled with depression (as do many of them) and therefor trucking, for the time being, was a more healthy vocational choice for me.  If I could live with that "thorn in the flesh" as the Apostle Paul calls it (2 Corinthians 12:6-7), so could they. 

Obviously, because of my considerable alternative career choices in the transportation industry, I have an expansive view of this whole topic. Sacred has appeared in the profane. And the profane has encountered the sacred.  

And finally, in conclusion, a bit of definition may be in order.  First according to Google: Profane: Adjective  relating or devoted to that which is not sacred or biblical; secular rather than religious. "a talk that tackled topics both sacred and profane."

Then Wikipedia, from sociologist Emile Durkheim: Profane: involves mundane individual concerns .... The sacred-profane dichotomy is not equivalent to good/evil, as the sacred could be either good or evil, and the profane could be either as well.  

I trust it's quite clear now.  In both these posts, profane is not profanity - not just a bunch of swear words!  And finally, once again my deference to almighty God, “Judge not, that you be not judged" (Matthew 7:1 RSV).

Tithes and Taxes

Today I encountered a fascinating info bit in my inbox.  It was a sample of next issue of Sojourners, a Christian magazine I have subscribed to for decades.  Says Bill McGibbon, in one of the articles in that issue, "The Rich Shall Destroy the Earth",

An Oxfam study released this fall showed that between 1990 and 2015—a period when we poured more carbon into the atmosphere than in all of history before that time—the richest 1 percent of humanity accounted for more of that damage than the entire bottom 50 percent of the species. In case you think that the top 1 percent is Jeff Bezos and Bill Gates, remind yourself that in fact it’s anyone whose income tops $109,000 a year—that includes plenty of readers of this magazine. The richest 10 percent of humanity accounts for half of total emissions—that’s everyone whose income is above $38,000. That’s quite likely you; it’s certainly me. (January, 2021)

Before I had even formulated some self-righteous thoughts about my millionaire friends, McGibbon's finger was already pointing at me. In fact one of my permanently memorized Bible verses already in mind,  So, if you think you are standing firm, be careful that you don’t fall! (1 Corinthians 10:12)  I am one of those with at least a bit more than the $38000 even in retirement income.  Most of my friends and I are spewing out at least 1/2 of the carbon! [Actually I wonder, is my son, who also fits this income bracket and drives a Tesla, also in this category?  What about electric cars?  Just a thought. 😀]

Anyway, main point here, two sentences into this, and my telephone rings.  It is a volunteer from one of our political parties checking in on me (Read looking for a year-end contribution).  I assure her, yes I am still a supporter, no I do not agree with total party platform, no I will not provide the year-end donation she is suggesting, yes I will make a smaller donation after we have given attention to several charities including our church and it will not be processed right now, but after due discernment in about two weeks!  With just a hint of disappointment she thanks me and I thank her for her hard work!

This provides some grist for my thinker.  I spoke with some confidence to the political volunteer and I'm glad I spoke cheerfully.  But I find myself wondering about implications of this.  What is the most generous (and responsible) way of living these days?  Although she politely honored my statement of charity, I'm thinking I might have spoken with her a little more thoughtfully (although my wife reminds me that my brand of thoughtful often gets those solicitors going even more aggressively).  As a Christian I am in fact committed to supporting God's work, including help for the poor, hospitality to strangers, emergency assistance, salaries for clergy, spiritual ministries, etc. etc.  Also as a Christian and a citizen of this Canada on this Turtle Island in this North America on this planet earth, I must also "consider Thy heavens,... the moon and the stars" (Psalm 8).  Is it adequately contained in one little word, charity? No. There are charities and there are charities. Some spend most of their time fundraising and appealing rather than doing the work they claim. In those cases my donations would be ill advised, naive even. Those dollars would be better utilized in the coffers of a political party seeking to provide a type of government I believe in, one that is respectful of the land and also the Indigenous who were here long before us settler Christians  moved in.  Upon review, indeed it was not necessary for me to explain all this to the solicitor, but that is what is required of me!  Yup, another Bible verse, And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly^[a] with your God. (Micah 6:8). 

Of course there are excellent charities as well, those that serve in a caring and noble fashion to the least of these, as our Lord Jesus once said (eg Matthew 25). Indeed they are the ones that must have priority. Many considerations for anyone who desires to live a grateful charitable life.  

Then also, says my thinker, don't forget your taxes!  Politicians who successfully form governments have appealed to people on basis of how they plan to utilize the taxes which citizens are expected to pay.  Although many historical variations of government selection (yes!), the accompanying reality of taxes has been there forever, so it seems.  In the New Testament we have Jews contracting to collect the Romans' taxes (aagh Matthew, Zachaeus).  In early patristics we have Christians and Muslims upholding identities and territory via taxes and military. Then into the Middle Ages and on into 16th Century there is Reformation reordering of church-state and required taxes.  And into contemporary, you know the saying ... death and taxes!

This is not an historical overview, not at all.  Just a little context for taxes. In conclusion, now I cannot but make reference to my people - my faith tradition (humbly of course 😉). Those who read most of my posts - especially the most recent including some critique of the church - please note this is nonetheless an old fashioned positivity!  Yes, even if self-described grumpy, I do speak positively about our simple version of church.  Mennonites are known for discipleship more so than accuracy of theological articulation. This means that our faith must always be more obvious in things we do than in the things we articulate or explain.  Actions do speak louder than words.  In fact one of my elder brothers says it this way, "Always preach good news. And if necessary, use words."  Historically, our actions based on loving the neighbor rather than killing, have often led to resisting the military or withholding war taxes. It is a prophetic vantage from which I still practice my stewardship and Christian convictions.  Furthermore, I also affirm another feature of Anabaptism (forebears of the Mennonites), and that is group discernment.  Although this principle is waning in today's urbanizing individualistic society (read some of my previous posts!), we still believe there is great wisdom in community.  So as my closing thought, here comes a modernist suggestion from this old Mennonite.  Not sure of where your charity or tax dollar should go?  Ask your neighbor, whether s/he belongs to your church or not. The conversation may in fact be more important than the decision reached.  And whether your dollar ends up in the church or in the political coffers may not be as important to our Creator as the condition of the heart, and also our mother earth will breathe easier.

If need be, and perhaps in review, here are a few more scriptures to help it along. Whether on taxes or charities, why not start a conversation with anybody you know on one or both of these scriptures.

“So give back to Caesar what is Caesar’s, and to God what is God’s.” (Matthew 22:21)

 Each of you should give what you have decided in your heart to give, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver. (2 Corinthians 9:7)

 

Sacred and the Profane

Years ago, during the trucking chapter of my life, I recall a fascinating conversation with a number of my good buddies of the trade, several mechanics and a pair of fellow truckers, each of us draped over the back tires of a truck in one of the repair bays of our Winnipeg shop. There we were, I think also with a few cups of coffee in hand. The topic was the latest movie several of us had just seen on the big screen, Mel Gibson's The Passion of the Christ (2004). The pertinent memory for me is the thoughtfulness and uncharacteristic non-belligerence of each person in that circle.  Even as I knew a bit of the antisemitism touted in the media aftermath, that gained almost no traction in this group of truckers. The sentiment in this huddle was thoughtfulness; one of my friends, Glen, even saying, "Imagine the lickin and kickin he took for me".  Nobody poo pooed his religious tone.  Seemingly the conclusion of this conversation circle was affirmation; thank you Jesus.

That particular repair shop conversation, unbeknownst to any of us at the time, became memorialized a short while later.  About six months later all truckers and other employees of this company received a satellite message from one of the Fleet Managers. Glen had died in the sleeper of his truck. If any of us wished to submit a condolence, he would facilitate.  I was shook up - very moved at the sudden passing of this fellow-christian friend who had struggled with a number of issues; a cardiac condition, and some considerable family pain.  

I submitted a greeting, which it turned out, was read in full at the memorial service.  To my surprise I also learned that my condolences had become part of the eulogy! I had written something about the above conversation, and also Glen's thoughtfulness on several occasions, including one time he had recognized my name on a shaving kit at a truck stop in Missouri, rescued it and returned it to me, thereby preventing its unceremonious demise into some American landfill!  It was kind of hilarious. The week after funeral I received various appreciative replies from relatives of Glen, from our trucking company managers, from the pastor who had conducted the service, from his latest lover, and a few fellow truckers.  Needless to say my ego was bolstered a bit in the next while as I drove my miles, kind of reflecting on the occasional serendipity of things. Funny how good things to think about always make for straighter highways and lower hills.  😊  Hmm, Luke 1:35 comes to mind,  Every valley shall be filled in, every mountain and hill made low. The crooked roads shall become straight, the rough ways smooth.

Anyway, what is it that brought this to mind?  I think it is this Advent season and last Sunday's scriptures about John the Baptist.  J the B is my favorite Bible character, that wilderness preacher minimally clad with camel's hair garment, eating locusts and wild honey, divinely appointed to announce the one, "the straps of whose sandals I am not worthy to untie" (Mark 1:7). The good feelings and the camaraderie of that truckers' conversation reminds me of the Baptist's wilderness more than of church services and liturgies.  And it reminds me of that LARGE theme, that Jesus theme, cried out by John in the wilderness and which the people were clamoring to hear, and which Glen so heartfeltedly had testified to in our trucker huddle. 

This blog post is another contribution to that theme which seems to have emerged in the last while.  I have been writing about dying, about things accumulated or accomplished or not accomplished in lifetimes, about interpersonal relationships, hurt feelings, about other religions, about spiritual search even in (especially in) our contemporary inter-faith society.  Strident, I have called it; perhaps a little morbid and slightly beyond the comfort level of what my friends and acquaintances like to read, but I have no problem occasionally afflicting the comfortable!  And then I have the nerve to suggest that the church is not as important as many still wish it to be. John the Baptist of similar mindset, not at all concerned about the conventions of his Jewishness nor about the Jewishness of the One he was foretelling.  I must say that my recall of that spontaneous truckers repair-shop Bible study was as sacred as any encounter I've had in myriads of studies in comfortable chairs in church sanctuaries or Sunday school classrooms. 

In these retirement years I am still immersed in that world which I am a little critical of.  Church.  It's that world you can't quite retire out of.  It's what I'm trained in and know how to do, and it is a healthy involvement, volunteering my time in Zoom consultations, in online committee meetings and church services, and hundreds of related emails and telephone conversations (mostly on my cell phone of course)!  Although I am 'thusly' involved I am not sure it is the best use of my time.  Perhaps my relationship with God would be better nurtured if I focused more on my grandchildren than on church committees.  Furthermore, and even moreso in this corona environment, I feel the worry and an increasing silence from church leaders almost akin to politicians - institutional people not quite sure of their truth.  Even within the effort to proclaim the eternal everlasting presence of God it seems waning of conviction.

Which makes me glad for memories of that holy huddle back there in the workaday world - the sacred and the profane side by side.  On this Second Advent 2020, my comfort is with the wilderness preacher, perhaps the trucker preacher, or perhaps the neighbor who needs her snow shoveled.  God is not done with us yet.